


What If...

by PandoraButler



Series: Sherlock One-Shots [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Death, Jewish John, M/M, Nazi Sherlock, Sadness, WW2, World War 2, World War II, You'll cry, enough said, the boy in the striped pajamas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2019-02-03 03:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoraButler/pseuds/PandoraButler
Summary: After I watched The Boy in the Striped Pajamas I thought of this alternate universe where Sherlock wasn't a detective and instead had to become a Hitler youth (or something like that).So I wrote it.And i made myself cry.Anyways...this is set in WWII with Sherlock and John on opposing sides of the fight. John is the Jew and Sherlock is the Hitler youth/Nazi (by force, he didn't want to be one).





	What If...

_The air smelt of ash, of burning flesh, Sherlock couldn't remember a time when it didn't. It seems, now, everyday, you could almost **hear**  their screams. Almost  **see**  their faces. How long now? How long has it been? Since he joined the Hitler Youth? How long has it been? Since he has been forced to do this job? Forced to bring all of the Jews into their chambers, into the death traps..._

_It was a do or die world now. Do, or be deemed a traitor. Do, or be killed._ _Sherlock no longer knew what was right and what wasn't. He didn't even **feel**  German. He didn't  **feel**  like he belonged on this side of the war at all. If only he could switch sides. If only he could go to the Allies and work for them. It would be so much more satisfying, to know that he was stopping this evil, instead of causing it. What if he decided to be a spy? Would they trust him? No, likely not. But still, wouldn't that be a better life? Than living here? Like this? Doing these terrible things? Could he even be called a  **human**  anymore?_

_He had wanted to be a pirate._

_He had wanted to be a detective._

_He wanted to save lives, not ruin them._ _So why, why was he here? Doing things that he didn't think were right?_

_Sherlock stood in his spot, stone still, as if he was a statue. He was supposed to observe the Jews, to see if any of them were acting out of line while being transported. They walked in rows, pushing each other around. Of course they'd do that, they were afraid, who wouldn't be afraid? Shouldn't everyone be terrified? Why were the Germans **not**  terrified of themselves? For doing such things? Sherlock bit his lower lip, he made it bleed, it was the only way to keep himself from doing something. It was the only way to force himself to stay in  **this**   **spot**. He scanned the crowd, like he was 'supposed' to. His eyes met, with a shorter male, a blonde. He was dirty, but not as dirty as the rest. He must be new here. Too bad for him._

_The male stopped, staring back at him. Sherlock and the stranger continued to look at each other. If this, had been another time, would they have been friends? Would he be the vice captain of the vessel that Sherlock pirated? Would he be the sidekick helping him solve crimes? Sherlock bit his lip more, these ideas needed to leave, he couldn't feel emotions. He couldn't befriend a Jew, not in this time period, not in this lifetime..._

_But what if?_

_What if things were different?_

_What would their lives be like? In a world like that? Where they could be free of this war. Free of these camps. Free of the terror that plagued their everyday lives. Would it be worth it? Well, what sort of life were they living now? Was this life even worth it?_

_The stranger turned his head away as he started to move forward once again. Sherlock knew where they were headed. They were going towards the gas chambers. They were going towards their death, and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it. He wasn't smart enough. He was still too young to make a difference. That's what his older brother had always said. That's what he had always believed._

_But who cares about that anymore?_

_Who cares about age? About intelligence?_

_Sherlock was tired of watching this. Of watching them all die. It wasn't worth the struggle. If he could save someone, anyone, just one single life, it would be worth it, right?_

_Wrong._

_If he was going to save anyone, it would be himself, there should be no reason to change his decision now. So, he followed behind the last of the group, and he helped force them all into the building. Sherlock watched, as they stripped down, as they were forced into yet another room, the chambers. He heard, their fellow Jews shout 'It's just a shower!' and he wanted to cry. He wanted to yell at them for being so stupid, for being so **human** , but, wasn't he just the same? Wasn't he also just a human?_

_The piles of clothes left behind made Sherlock's heart break. These were people, living humans, why were they being treated like livestock? What was the point? Sherlock held the edge of the door, about to close it, and about to lock it. He saw the stranger, that had locked eyes with him before, and he froze. The stranger smiled, despite the instinct of knowing he was going to die._

_"Do you think," he whispered, tears running down his cheeks, "that if it was different, if we had met under different circumstances, we would have been friends? Instead of enemies?" he asked. Sherlock didn't know how to respond. What does one say to that? What **should** one say to that?_

_Sherlock closed his eyes for a while, fighting back the tears that wanted to come down. He smiled back, "tell me, what's your name?" he questioned, "if we get reborn, I'd like to look for you."_

_"John," he said._

_"John," Sherlock repeated, forcing himself to remember, even if it killed him, "goodbye John," he stated, before closing the door. The door locked, and Sherlock turned around, he exited the horrible scene. He had to do this, so many times before, but this time, **this time** , it was the worst. He returned to his room, before the guilt hit him hard. Sherlock cried, like he had lost the most important person in the world, and in a sense, he did._

_Why did this have to happen? Why did he do that? He should have never tried to save his own life over the lives of others...but now he had to live with this decision...one he would never forgive himself for making. Curse him. Curse **them**. The tears kept coming, there was no stopping them now. It had been so long since he last cried, that Sherlock almost thought he had forgotten how._

_But people never really forget how to cry, do they? They just learn how to suppress the feeling._

...

"Sherlock?"

The detective opened his eyes to find John staring down at him, concern written all over his face. Sherlock looked at the face, squinting, was he back at Baker Street? Had that all been a dream? Thank the stars it was...

"Are you okay?" John asked, "you seemed like you were having a bad dream."

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine? I've just slept more than I have in the past 3 months!" Sherlock sat up. He yawned and stretched, trying to forget about the bad dream. Sherlock really needed to stop watching crappy telly before going to bed. Why did he fall asleep on the couch anyway? That's not comfortable in the slightest!

"So, have we gotten a new case yet?" he asked, earning himself a glare from John.

"You've just finished one! Can't you take a break?"

"Nope," Sherlock grinned. Why should he? He had lives to save...


End file.
